


Last Laugh

by NightFlier



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Dick Grayson Whump, Dick Grayson is Joker but not THE Joker, Drawing in chapter 2, F/F, Gen, I make fun of Kiteman because I love him, I'm not sure exactly how to rate the violence, Kite Man!, You had one job, bad batman, no, ok, one-shot story, that’s a lie I just love making fun of Kiteman, the violence is minor but descriptive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightFlier/pseuds/NightFlier
Summary: The world may be fooled, but Dick now knows that Batman is a liar and a murderer. If only he found out sooner, so much could’ve been prevented. Barbara would’ve never been shot, Jason would’ve never died (twice), Tim wouldn’t have lost his parents… Now Dick wears the mantle of Batman’s greatest foe to lead the charge against the Dark Knight. The plan is sure, except for the part of whether or not Dick gets out of it alive.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jim Gordon, Dick Grayson & Selina Kyle, Dick Grayson & Tim Drake, Poison Ivy/ Harley Quinn
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I heard this song at the end of the film “Promising Young Women.” Both the song and the film are amazing, and it fits the tone of this fic :)
> 
> Last Laugh by Fletcher
> 
> I'ma have the last laugh, ah  
> 'Cause the second you forget me  
> Is the second that I come right back, ah  
> Every whiskey that you're drinkin'  
> You'll be thinkin' how I burn like that  
> Is it a bird? Is it a plane?  
> Nah, it's me in your dreams  
> Or maybe call 'em nightmares, ah, ah  
> Yeah, I'ma, I'ma have the last laugh
> 
> Also shout out to my bestie LifeRuinedBy5Idiots for being my beta reader!!! Check out their work if you like ATLA fics (especially angsty Zuko/Sokka fics ;)

Joker sprinted across a rooftop and practically flew over to the next one. He hardly landed before moving forward again. His feet functioned on autopilot after 17 years of traversing Gotham from above. He was very familiar with which rooftops possessed death-threat security, which rooftops housed pigeon roosts, and which rooftops would eventually lead him to his destination.

He lost count a while back during the chase, but he was pretty sure that his rooftop-tally was up in the fifties. He was much sprier than the last Jokers. Much more alive as well, but that wouldn’t matter for much longer. 

How funny it was that he’d never felt more alive. Beneath his single-minded focus _to get_ _away,_ his body vibrated with every pounding of his heart. Quick breaths shot out of his mouth as if even the air inside his lungs craved escape. His costume squeezed every crevice and curve of his body, it would’ve exposed his every misstep and stumble, but he made none. If he was going down, then his final performance would be his best.

The rotors of the news helicopter above blocked out the sounds of traffic and pedestrians on the streets. What a pity. He wanted to hear how many Gothamites were booing his name. And how many were cheering him on. The Joker movement was growing despite the police raids and the debilitating attacks from an _unknown_ _shadowy figure._

Before an especially wide building gap, Joker leapt into a quadruple  somersault . His gleeful laughter carried on into every spin. He could almost imagine the amazed gasp from the reporters. Everyone always gasped despite living in a world chock full of aliens, metahumans, and magic. Or maybe they gasped because of it? There was something to be said for the classic human achievement of pushing one’s limits. The everyday human yearned for the reassurance that they also were capable of doing the impossible.

_ Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s the Flying—  _ Fuckshit, no! Almost struck down by gravity, Joker’s toes just managed to find enough purchase on the roof’s edge to keep himself vertical. How pathetic would it have been for his own vanity to be the death of him? It was bad enough that his childish naivete brought him into this situation. The last Joker would’ve been rolling in his grave in righteous anger, but his body was burned to ash in Belle Reve’s cremation oven. Go figure, no one wanted to risk him returning to life for a second time.

He tried listening for his slower yet tenacious pursuer.  This time, there’d be no hiding in the sewers, no begging for mercy. Certainly, no fair fight. But what would Joker have expected from the man who engineered the death of innocent performers, the downfall of a 15-year-old boy, the crippling of a young woman, and the pain of so many others… too many to remember but still not enough for Gotham to care. That had to change. 

Some unknown emotion rushed through the Joker.

It couldn’t be fatigue. An acrobat turned child soldier didn’t tire so easily.

Nor could it be fear. That was a privilege that Joker reserved for those who deserved it. 

No… This was something lighter. Something that was sung in his every cell. This was exhilaration. The same sort of exhilaration that swung him across the trapeze as a child and buoyed him into battle with Gotham’s rogues. 

He was….  _ enjoying  _ himself? Damn, maybe he really was sick in the head.

Joker leapt onto his last rooftop, the property of the  GCPD. At the last moment, he curled up and rolled to a stop in the dead center. No time for a reprieve, he forced himself onto his aching feet. Leslie would’ve scolded him for not wearing the proper footwear for the occasion, but his floppy, long-laced sneakers had been adopted into his iconic  _ I-am-Joker-hear-me-laugh  _ image. He wouldn’t have gained an entire revolution of followers by being mainstream, well, mainstream by the rest of the world’s standards. Gotham revolved around over-the-top characters and their gimmicks. 

Just look at the Bat-Signal. It was covered up by a heavy-duty tarp right then, but what other city would pour thousands of dollars into such an ineffective, gaudy communicative method? Despite the best efforts of good people like Gordon, this city was determined to cover up and ignore its deep-rooted problems. The semblance of a solution kept most people content while the exceptions were too busy suffering the consequences to protest.

The lingering scent of Commissioner Gordon’s cigarettes had long faded away since the man retired to take care of his traumatized daughter. But Joker could still picture the funny-looking mustache that twitched while he talked; the mustard-yellow overcoat that stored candy for young vigilantes with a sweet tooth; and those  compassionate, brown eyes that witnessed things that no father ever should. 

Jim Gordon was only one of the Bat’s numerous victims. Speak of the devil, the Joker’s pursuer finally caught up to him.

“Well, well, well, as I live and breathe. It’s the Betrayer of Gotham, the World’s Greatest Liar, the Caped Criminal, the Dark Bl—” Joker’s voice rose and rose until even his own ears hurt from the high pitch. 

“Enough,” Batman stepped forward and smacked Joker hard enough that his head snapped back. He bit his lip hard enough to pierce the skin. No way in hell would he let  _ this man  _ hear him cry. 

Joker licked the iron-taste off his lips, “ouch, how many Joker activists did you have to beat up to perfect that swing?” Batman wasn’t staying still for this talk. He swooped forward like a force of nature: powerful, swift, and merciless. Joker’s acrobatics and flexibility only kept him a finger’s breadth out of his reach. 

“You really thought to galvanize Gotham youths against me?” Batman grunted as Joker got a minor hit in. He pulled away quickly before Batman grabbed him. Nearby, the news helicopter dipped down then rose again. The reporters were high enough to get a good shot but not close enough to hear their words. That was fine. Joker didn’t need them for his plan. 

  
“Please, they all knew that this system was bullshit long before I did,” Joker gasped, “but I guess living with a billionaire really did shelter me, huh, Bruce?” No reply. He always hated it when his adoptive father ignored him. “What, not gonna scold me for using names in the field?”

A mirthless chuckle dropped out of Batman’s mouth.

An involuntary tremble ran up Joker’s back. As a child, he would’ve done anything to be the cause of his laughter. But now he understood how rogues and heroes alike found that sound terrifying.

He cautiously stepped backwards, not taking his eyes off of his former mentor for an instant. Batman seemed to be taking a respite, but Joker wasn’t taking any chances.

“You thought  _ I  _ wouldn’t come prepared?” Batman pulled a small, blinking device from his belt before tucking it away again, “Say all the last words that you want.”

“Woah, you upgraded the EMP gun? Pity, it was much flashier before,” Joker balanced his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to flee when necessary. Shit, he really wanted to look down to see if his laces were untied. Tripping over his own feet during the most important fight of his life would’ve been the biggest joke.

“Please, Dick. Trying to get me to expose myself to the public? Now you’re just disrespecting my training!” Without any warning, Batman lunged at him. Joker desperately stumbled back and grabbed the tarp over the Bat Symbol. He flung it at the charging man. It didn’t even phase him.

“If I wasn’t already aware of your unworthiness, this would be the evidence enough,” Batman snarled and pushed the tarp off of himself.   
  


“Sorry, I guess that Jason wasn’t the only disappointment,” Joker spat out. 

“Jason was never a disappointment,” Batman shook his head. He lowered his gravelly voice as if talking to a child. “He was a means to an end.”

“Too bad for you that the Lazarus Pit made sure that end wasn’t so permanent,” Joker refused to let his fury get the better of him. He had to make his last words count. 

“If only he didn’t reach out to you and the others,” Batman sighed and started crowding into Joker’s space again.

“You’re only upset that he warned us!” Staying light on his feet, Joker dodged Batman’s next attack. The EMP had neutralized his high-tech gadgets, so it was time for an original. He pulled out a poison-green canister and sprayed it at Batman who covered his face with his cape. The liquid sizzled and burned through the dark fabric.    
  
“He corrupted you!” Batman hit the acid canister out of Joker’s grasp. 

“Ha! As if you’re one to talk!” Joker twisted out of the way of Batman’s gloved fist just in time, “all you do is manipulate people into doing what you want. You got Alfred and Leslie to forego their morals to cover up your dirty work for your so-called ‘greater good.’ When they eventually realized your true colors, you had enough dirt to bury them into oblivion. And did you ever even care about Jason or did you always intend for him to replace Joker? You’re just mad that Jason returned and twisted your deception against you!” Strategically quiet, Batman took advantage of Joker losing his concentration to feint another punch, only to follow up with a heavy kick.

Joker groaned as pain exploded into his side. There went a few ribs, at the very least they were bruised. He twisted away, but his injury slowed him down enough for Batman to make contact again. Right. On. His. Face. A startling crack snapped through the air when Joker’s nose broke. Blood gushed out. Darn it, he wanted to look pretty for his funeral.

Babs was right, his mouth did get him in trouble

“Your petty resistance is a joke,” Batman knocked him off of his feet. Joker couldn’t help but groan again. Everything ached; his side, his head, his heart… 

“How would you know? It’s not like you ever had a sense of humour,” Joker gritted his teeth and clambered back onto his knees. “Does it upset you? I mean, you went through  _ all that trouble _ to kill off my parents and adopt me. I’m sure all those years of unadulterated hero worship really served to stroke your ego, but now I’m your self-made destruction.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Your every move has been predictable,” Batman knocked Joker back on his knees when he attempted to stand up.

“Hey! At least I’m working outside of the fucked-up system, that’s what got Dent and Gordon,” Joker argued, but didn’t try to move again, “well, that and you. Getting your pawn to destroy Dent’s respectable face and targeting Gordon’s loyal child… Your jealousy couldn’t have been more transparent. Would Superman have been next if Lex Luthor hadn’t gotten to him first?” 

“I taught you that mercy is for martyrs, not survivors. Superman wanted to pretend that he was equal to all men, so he died like one.” 

“He was a hero,” Joker blinked back the swell of angry tears. 

“I am a hero,” Batman placed his heavy hand on Joker’s head. Joker tensed as fingers combed through his black hair with its dyed-purple ends. Suddenly, Batman pulled on the strands and his neck snapped back. Bent like a bow, Joker had no choice but to look up at his old mentor. How nostalgic. 

  
“No, Batman is a  _ hero,  _ Bruce Wayne is a pathetic, little rich boy that everyone obeys but no one respects. Bruce Wayne doesn’t have half the power that Batman wields in the dark of night. But, hey, Haley’s Circus came into town. And you saw Dick Grayson, a kid who didn’t grow up hearing the rumours about Gotham’s beloved protector or the gossip about Gotham’s famous bachelor. A kid who needed someone to fill the recently made parent-shaped hole in his life.… And how convenient that he came with a specific skill set that’d cater to your mission.”   
  
“Dick…” Batman’s tone was a warning, but Joker wasn’t finished yet.   
  
“I mean, you always have a reason for your sins. Is that how you justified it? You saw how the grief of losing them tore me apart. Hell, you stayed at my side for every fuckin’ nightmare. After I fell back asleep, did you return to your bed unweighted by any regret? Writing off my pain because you would groom me to save so many others?”

“You want the truth?” Batman didn’t wait for an answer, “you were nothing before I found you. I gave you the chance to be a symbol. To be something greater. But you threw it away for the same fate as your brother.” 

“You didn’t even let Jason defend himself in court,” Joker’s hushed voice recollected the events from five months ago, “Got some drugs off of a cellmate, the official report said. Died of an overdose, the autopsy said. As if Jason would  _ ever  _ put himself at risk like that after his mother’s battle with addiction. Tell me, how did you bypass Belle Reve’s security to do it?” 

“If you want something, you have to give first,” Batman ordered.

“What,” Joker’s tone was flat and emotionless. Dimly, he wondered what the news helicopter made of this scene. The reporters most likely assumed that Batman was interrogating him about his next evil deed. His lips twitched out of sympathy and hysteria. Their fighting probably made much better TV. After Jason’s second death, Joker coordinated to get the rest of Gotham’s rogues underground to collaborate with the Joker movement. No surprise, the people who’d been on the receiving end of Batman’s punishment for so long were eager to see the vigilante taken down. In consequence, crime had been at an all time low. That had to have hurt the news program’s ratings. 

“Where is Timothy Drake? Is he the new hacker who’s been pulling strings for the Joker movement?” 

“Who?” 

“Don’t play dumb,” Batman roughly shook Joker’s head. Ugh, he could feel an oncoming headache. “The neighbor kid.”   
  
“Oh, you mean the one that you framed for his parents’ murder? Wait, that’s not specific enough… You mean the fellow high society member whose death would draw too many questions, so you went with stripping all credibility from him instead. Couldn’t have anyone publishing his sensitive photographs on your naughty deeds,” Joker clucked his tongue condescendingly. 

“Where is he!?” Batman demanded. Before Joker could respond, Batman’s communicator pinged. 

“Why don’t you find out?” Joker grinned, teeth glistening with his own blood.

Grimacing, Batman looked at his communicator. Without looking, Joker knew it was an alert for a widespread hack of screens in Gotham. Batman hit play and immediately snarled. From his position, Joker couldn’t see what the communicator was showing. Lucky for him, the jumbotron across the street caught the same channel. He watched as its commercial faded away to show a floating, green head insignia. Oracle. Joker still wasn’t the biggest fan of the creepy insignia, but it made Barbara happy. And Joker would never deny anything to the star hacker of the Joker movement.

“Hello, Gotham City!” Tim replaced the floating head. Most of the Joker movement wore some sort of accessory to represent, but Tim really took the prize with his purple suit and green tie. “Do I have the story for you! Your glorious protector is a murderous, lying crook. But why trust me when you can hear it from the man himself!?”

The screen went black, but the audio continued into a very familiar conversation. It was the same conversation that took place between Batman and Joker only ten minutes prior. Batman dug his fingers into Joker’s scalp. The trapped man winced but stayed still. Soon enough, a video was added to match the voices. They stayed there for what felt like infinity and, along with the whole city, watched as Batman’s facade crumbled. Joker could have attempted to escape, but all of his energy was gone. It was done. Finally, Batman was done. 

Of course, the man himself wouldn’t have given up so soon. Batman abruptly tightened his grip on Joker’s head and dragged him over to the Bat Symbol. He was following the angle of the video feed. With his free hand, Batman punched the center of the bat. The black and yellow glass shattered and scattered around them. Ignoring the mess, Batman yanked out a camera covered in heavy-duty  aluminum foil. Its red light was still on until Batman pitched it towards the ground and crushed it beneath his boot. But the damage was already done. Joker’s ears perked when the jumbotron switched from the fight to Tim again. The teenager’s mouth was stretched with never-ending laughter. Joker couldn’t have pulled off this plan without him, but that kid definitely needed some therapy later. 

“What have you done?” Batman became quiet, his breathing was hardly audible. 

“You wanted me to be more unpredictable,” Joker sniped back. 

“You’ve ruined everything!” Batman’s fist slammed into Joker’s face. The shards of bone in his broken nose ripped open his face. A  scream ripped involuntarily out of Joker’s throat. His mind filled with painful static. Faintly, he was aware of being dragged again. He managed to return to himself only to find himself dangling off the rooftop. Blinking against his blurry vision, Joker got a glimpse of….. Bruce. The cowl was pulled down. 

Dick sucked in a ragged breath. He saw no mercy in Bruce’s ice-blue eyes.

Going into this, Dick knew that his death was more than a possibility. But not like this. Please God, not like this. 

“Bruce, No!” Dick begged him, “please,  _ please!  _ Dad, don’t do this!  _ No _ !” 

“You wanted to be the martyr, Dick,” Bruce’s lips thinned into a firm line. And then he let his son fall to his death. Just like the Flying Graysons before him.

Dick’s arms stretched upward, but his hands only grasped air. 

Why couldn’t his life flash before his eyes? Anything would be better than the image of his Bruce burned into his eyes. His mentor. His dad. His murderer. 

Closing his eyes, Dick let gravity pull him down. The  GCPD building was thirteen levels high. The fall would be forever, but the impact would be quick.

“Hey, hold on to me!” A voice reached Dick’s ears before the wind whipped it away. He opened his eyes. There was Kite Man in all his green-spandex glory. His large glider kite was open behind his back, pointed down as they both plummeted side by side. Impossible hope swelled in Dick’s heart, but it was immediately ripped away as a wild breeze whisked the C-lister villain up. 

“Whoopsy daisy!” Kite Man cried as he was pulled farther and farther away.

Dick wanted to cry. 

The ground was arriving too rapidly to close his eyes again. Soon enough, he’d be a flesh-colored stain on the green foliage…. Wait, green? Large vines wrapped around his body to slow his descent. Ginormous leaves opened beneath him. He roughly bounced off the first one, then another, and another. The vines gently released him on the ground but stayed to support his weight. 

Intensely colorful flowers, all much bigger than the Batmobile, bloomed around him. Their perfume clogged his aching nose. 

Legs trembling, Dick was three seconds away from collapsing. He… wasn’t dead? But how did he end up in Wonderland? Oh look, there was the Cheshire Cat.

“Kitten, no. It’s Selina. Selina has you now, you’re okay,” Dick slowly registered a hand rubbing his back comfortably and the owner of said hand. 

“Se—Selina?” He stuttered, spending his last breath on saying her name.

“Breathe, kitten. Breathe!” Selina rested his shaking hand onto the center of her chest, “breathe with me now.”

Dick sucked in the floral-scented air and exhaled heavily. Others were arriving. 

“Good work, kid!” A New Jersey accent cut through the noise in his head, “you did my puddin’ justice, not like he deserved it for willingly going along with Batsy’s plots for so long, but still.”

Dick lifted his head as Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn came near. 

“Your ex-husband,” Dick pointed weakly at Poison Ivy, “almost got me killed.”

“Ex-fiance,” Poison Ivy gently corrected him, “and he was so excited to help out that I couldn’t refuse him.”

Unable to focus, Dick tried to look up at the GCPD building, but all he could see were the green leaves. He turned back to Selina. “What do you think  _ he’s _ thinking right now?”   
  
“You know, I got closer to Bruce more than most could ever claim, but I still have no idea what’s running through his mind,” Selina sighed and wrapped her arm around Dick’s shoulders. “But I don’t think we need to worry about that from now on.” 

  
  


_ Thirteen levels above them….  _

……………………...

Tim kept cackling on the jumbotron. Bruce was extremely tempted to waste a batarang to blow up the screen, but he needed all of his weapons. Right after he let go of Dick, waves of Gotham rogues flooded the rooftop. All of them looked extremely pleased and bloodthirsty. Bruce put his cowl back on and raised his fists for an already lost fight. 

Never more than at that moment did Bruce regret having kids. 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact, aluminum foil can protect tech against EMPs. That’s what Bruce gets for being overconfident, he gets foiled by literal foil XP 
> 
> For those of you reading my other fics, I swear I’m going to finish them. It’s just after a long break, I need to write some one-shots to get my creativity running again. Anyway hope you enjoyed and would love to hear your feedback :)


	2. The Joker Trio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason's look is basically Red Hood with a Joker color scheme and the long purple overcoat. I considered making him look more like the OG Red Hood (the Joker one), and Jason even dressed up similar to to him in the 2011 "Batman and Robin" run, but it just too ugly. I hate that long, condom-looking (just saying what I hear) helmet.
> 
> There was an elseworld Dick who was the Joker, but that costume design is just completely alien from Dick's other looks and personality. So I based off his look here from his regular costume and his clown persona "Flippy Flop" in the "Red Hood and the Outlaws Annual #1" (great read! Got some Jason & Dick brotherly bonding :)
> 
> Tim is basically Joker Junior, but without the complete skin/hair dye makeover and with pants.


End file.
